


Infantile Interlude

by Hobbitrocious



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: ABDL, Age Play, Bathing/Washing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy/Boy Dynamics, Domestic Fluff, Feeding, Gen, Infantilism, Non-Sexual Age Play, Nudity, Regression, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3939553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitrocious/pseuds/Hobbitrocious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short ficlets in which Tony Stark indulges in age play. Obadiah takes care of more than just the company for Tony. AU for NotEvil!Obadiah.</p><p>Originally written  June 2010 and posted to LiveJournal. Can still be found at slashmebaby.livejournal.com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No. 1

**Author's Note:**

> These were some of my earliest AB fics, sort of my 'coming out' stories, so the narrative is more stream-of-consciousness than it is artistic. Still, not as blunt as the KKBB one, but I apologise because I could have done better; I just choose not to edit in most cases.

The bib and its terrycloth backing are a nice, familiar feel against his chest as Obadiah fastens the bib at the back of Tony's neck with the snap sewn into it.

Tony falls farther into his 'child' headspace, and Little Tony begins to wonder what Daddy has in store for him. The obvious thing for Tony to expect, being seated in his highchair, is food.

Obie - no, Daddy now - walks to the counter along the wall, out of Tony's sight. A digitised whistle alerts Adult Tony (lingering somewhere along the edges of Tony's mind, a faint presence retreating deeper and deeper with each passing second,) that the bottle warmer Obadiah has set up has finished its cycle, and dinner is ready. Tony slaps his hands against the plastic tray locked around his middle, expressing his excitement at being fed.

Obadiah smiles, returning with the piping hot milk. It's a fond smile, very different (and somehow not) from the smiles Obadiah gives Tony on a normal day. Tony barely registers this, eying the object in Daddy's hand like it is his entire world at the moment. A bottle full of pleasing, wholesome, warm milk, which will feel so much better in Tony's tummy. Tony starts to make 'umm, um' noises and reaches for the bottle to let Daddy know he's hungry.

Obadiah sits, and the rubber nipple grazes against Tony's lip. Tony turns his head ever so slightly in order to latch on, and sucks for all he's worth. The liquid warmth feels so good sliding down, filling his stomach, comforting him on its way in. The entire experience is incredibly soothing, and Tony feels his eyelids drift closed after a few sips. He grasps onto the edge of the high chair's tray to try and keep himself awake, to keep himself from sliding into a place he may not be able to come back from. Smacking and suckling sounds fill the quiet room, an intimate look shared between child and caretaker. Obadiah's eyes never leave Tony's, even as the grin crinkles into crow's feet above his cheeks.

Eventually, Tony feels full, and realises there is not much left inside the bottle. He nearly goes cross-eyed trying to gauge how much he has left to go. Daddy tilts the bottle a little more, and the last drops fall into Tony's mouth. 

The nipple is pulled gently from his mouth, and Tony feels a rough swiping at his chin - Daddy is using the corner of Tony's bib to wipe up what Tony missed, what's drooling down his face. Obadiah tuts over the mess, but smiles lovingly while doing so. He leaves Tony again once he is cleaned up.

A little clanking, a little rustling about, and Daddy is back with a bowl of mush and a soft-tipped spoon. Steam rises off the pool of watery rice cereal, or hum-hum, as Obadiah calls it (and Tony can vaguely remember his mother saying the same to him so many long years ago, before Adult Tony had a memory to draw upon).

Baby Tony, who doesn't have much to draw upon aside from how he is feeling in the Here and Now, is surprised to note that, yes, he is still hungry. Well, Tony _is_ a growing boy. He opens his mouth in response to the spoon hovering closer and closer. There's a purplish hue to the gunk that Obie thrusts at him, and Adult Tony whispers something like, "Oh, he's mixed it with prunes this time" into Baby Tony's ear.

Baby Tony disregards it, moving his tongue around his mouth and contemplating the new flavour. He decides it is a good taste, and opens his mouth for more.

Daddy keeps spooning it in until the bowl is empty. Luckily, most of it stays inside Tony's mouth, and Obadiah only has to clean minimal amounts from Tony's chin.

Tony is in that hazy place between contentment and sleep when he hears footsteps just over to his side, and feels the plastic rim that was before digging into his stuffed middle being unclasped and slid free. Strong arms insinuate themselves underneath Tony's arms and pull him out of the chair, into Daddy's waiting lap.

Daddy strokes Tony's hair and whispers loving things, like "you're such a good boy", "you finished it all", and "let's get you ready for bed, sweetheart".

A hand climbs up, up Tony's back, and Tony's chest vibrates with the pats to his spine. Annoying bubbles jump up in his tummy until they find their way out, out through his mouth, and he burps softly over Obadiah's shoulder. It takes a few of these burps before Daddy, Obadiah, is satisfied.

Tony is led upstairs and seated on a bed with a thick quilt. He hunkers down and gets ready for sleep even as he hears water running in the next room. He is happy right where he is, and proud he is able to make it up the stairs the way he is. Daddy taught him to do that just last week.

Daddy comes back and wakes Tony up. Tony isn't sure whether he fell asleep for a few or merely blinked. Baby Tony yawns, then follows Obadiah into the bathroom, led along by Daddy's large hands holding his.

The tub is inviting, obviously clean, and Tony leans heavily on Daddy as he is lowered into the scant bath. Tony is already sleepy, of course, and the steamy water is only furthering him toward dreamland.

A foam pillow is placed behind his head so that he can comfortably rest in the hard, porcelain tub. Tony almost purrs when Obadiah's hands, covered in lather, begin to rub over Tony's lax body. 

Tony closes his eyes. Daddy's hands soap behind his ears, around his neck, across his chest, and in circles on his belly. Tony bites his lip as Daddy's fingers squeeze his outie bellybutton to make sure the soap gets inside every nook and cranny. Up and down Tony's legs, under Tony's thighs, and in between Tony's buttocks also get a good, thorough scrubbing.

Last are Tony's hair and his face, most sensitive to the soap. Obadiah rinses the baby shampoo as carefully as he can, but a bit still runs into Tony's eyes and makes him wince. Obadiah quickly washes that off, too, rubbing his thumbs over Tony's brow, his cheeks, his nose, and his eyelids. Tony splutters as the water and suds gush over his lips, but none of it seems to sting his eyes. Obadiah breathes a little easier and hauls Tony out of the tub.

Tony is so very close to dropping off now, and is sure he's ready to start dreaming when more soft terrycloth makes contact with his skin. Daddy insists on dressing him in footie pyjamas, and Tony couldn't agree with his choice more.

Baby Tony is laid out on his bed, limbs spread and mind languorous, as his heavy, moist arms and legs are manipulated into first a cotton onesie and then the footie jammies. The loud _zzzzzzzzip_ up the front of his pyjamas is almost enough to break through the comfortable stupor, but not quite. Adult Tony is stirred slightly, though, and gives a short thanks that he is small-boned enough to fit into this kind of clothing. A boys' extra-large suits the night's purposes very well.

Obadiah plants a kiss under Tony's beard, and another in the centre of Tony's forehead. Tony, drifting off again, smiles without being fully conscious of it. Obie smiles, too, unseen, because he finds his little boy adorable beyond words.

The jammies tug at the back of Tony's neck as he flexes his toes. He is reminded of the constricting corduroy overalls he was made to wear in the sandbox today. A sigh escapes him, his brain winding down for the night while even yet reminiscing of the simple joys of playing with brightly coloured shovels and dump trucks in a three-by-five sandscape shaped like a boat. The bell at the front is always fun to ring, but Daddy says it gives him a headache after too long. Tony tries to ring it only when Daddy has gone indoors for a lemonade.

The nightlight in Tony's chest replaces the room lights when Daddy turns that off. A nice, blue glow that stands out right in front of him. 

The numbing, cottony softness that heralds sleep is creeping upon Baby Tony, and Daddy's fingers leave the light switch so that Daddy can tuck Tony in and kiss him for one more Goodnight.

Adult Tony knows there is a noon conference he must attend, but Baby Tony ignores the thought so he can nuzzle tiredly into Daddy's scratchy stubble. It's something else that is familiar, one thing more that Adult Tony will recall in the middle of his sales pitch tomorrow. It will be fleeting, barely there, but enough to give him pause.

Tony sleeps like a baby tonight.


	2. No. 2

Tony looks out across the yard and pool through the glass sliding door, across the expansive living room, over the back of the couch and Obadiah's shoulder. He's sitting in Obie's lap, the two of them chest to chest. Obadiah is facing forward, watching the TV, while Tony's bum rests on Obadiah's thighs, Tony's own legs tucked up underneath him on either side of Obadiah.

Some daytime talk show ended about ten minutes ago, and Obadiah is watching the news. Tony, well into his baby headspace, doesn't try to understand what the voices streaming steadily out of the box are saying. Obadiah pays attention, though, and Tony is quiet while the older man listens and absently rubs Tony's back.

Obadiah shifts Tony's weight after a while, and this makes Tony turn his head to rest it more comfortably on Obie's shoulder. His hands are already up there, not gripping, but relaxed. Between the white noise and the warm body against his, the strong arms holding him, Tony feels thoroughly peaceful.

The TV gets a little louder (Adult Tony, always at the fringes of Baby Tony's awareness, recognises that the commercials have come on), and Obadiah turns his head. Tony is looking away, toward the wall now, but Obadiah can see enough.

"Hey," the older man says, hushed. He reaches around and gently grasps Tony's wrist. He pulls Tony's hand down, pulls the thumb from Tony's mouth. Obadiah _tsks_. "Don't suck on that."

His dreamy peace interrupted, Tony pushes off Daddy's shoulders and sits up. He doesn't scowl, but comes close. Obadiah sees his distress and sighs. 

He reaches to the end table next to them and fishes for something among the folders, snacks, and magazines. "Here," he says, and pops something between Tony's parted lips.

Taken aback, Tony fumbles for the thing and pulls it out to look at it. He smiles, pleased, as soon as he sees what it is, and puts it back in his mouth. It's his pacifier, of course. _Nippy-nip_ , he corrects himself. He settles against Daddy's shoulder again and brings his arms up to circle loosely around Obie's neck. A broad hand slides up Tony's back and squeezes affectionately on the back of his neck, and Tony is sure Obadiah is smiling too.

The TV sounds come steadier, not so upbeat, and Obadiah's hand relaxes.

The nippy-nip gets tiresome soon, taking too much effort to keep a hold on for Tony to nap with it in his mouth, and Tony decides napping isn't what he wants to do right now anyway. The colourful blocks in front of the beanbag by the corner look much more fun.

The pacifier flies across the room and hits the glass door with a _whap_. It bounces and lands close to the blocks.

Daddy's broad hands swiftly move to Tony's sides and pull him back. Tony smirks bashfully, trying to hide it but delighting in the defiant action. Obadiah tries to glance back over the couch but can't, so he glares at Tony. Tony bites on a finger to distract himself from the uneasy feeling he's getting in the pit of his stomach.

Obadiah looks him in the eye. "Did you just throw that?" Daddy obviously knows Tony did, but wants an answer.

Tony considers shaking his head 'no', but is intimidated when Obadiah yanks Tony's finger from his mouth. Still smiling, but staring guiltily at Daddy's tie, Tony nods.

Daddy sighs again. Tony is rolled off his lap and guided to the floor.

"Here," Obadiah tells him, "Go play with your toys if you're getting restless."

Tony grins and scoots onto his hands and knees. Daddy sits back on the couch as Tony crawls around it, heading for the blocks. His overalls are in the wash after the other day's foray in the sandbox, and the striped shirt and jersey sweats make mobility across the carpet far easier. He reaches his toy corner quickly and seats himself in front of the beanbag chair.

The clacking of wooden blocks mingles happily with the drone of the one o'clock news, telling Obadiah he doesn't have to turn around _too_ often to check and make sure Tony's staying out of trouble.

Unfortunately, Daddy forgets to look back once Oprah starts, and is afterward left with the task of picking some soggy knock-off of silly putty out of Tony's whiskers. Tony flinches and makes every attempt to escape, and is finally herded into the room with the playpen so that Daddy can go get a warm, soapy washcloth to continue.

The playpen isn't the freestanding kind, but rather resembles a large, round fence erected in the middle of the room. The floor beneath is lined with thick blankets to cushion it for Tony, but, as comfy and cosy as it is, he's still cranky about being penned up. He gets up on his knees and shakes at the playpen, making far less of a ruckus than he hopes since the sound is muffled by all the padding.

He scowls while Daddy washes his face, but remains obediently still and silent as it's done.

Daddy walks away with the (now lime green) washcloth, leaving Tony alone. There are footsteps and running water, and Tony is just about to give a neglected cry when more footsteps come back down the hall. Obadiah turns on the stereo by the window, and a familiar tune plays. A classical piece, simple and very familiar to Tony.

Obadiah leaves again and soon comes back with a prospectus in one hand and a bunch of Tony's blocks in the other.

Tony's scowl lifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Interlude No. 3 was in the works around the same time I wrote these first two, but I kind of abandoned it. If I ever do get around to finishing it, it will go here as Chapter 3.


End file.
